Into the Heart of One Great Brain

Woman Weary

Because I am a good cat mom, I crooned praise to Sarah, our outdoor cat, as I stepped over the back half of the squirrel she was eating on the door step. It is early, too early to hear the crunch of bones and chew of tough meat and tendrils. The night, although lined with an autumn crispness, is thick with humidity. Twilight will come in another hour. The coffee pot is beginning its spudder and pop. I can hear it through the half open kitchen door as I sit rubbing my eyes and watching. Sarah killed the squirrel yesterday. I was taking out the trash and heard her familiar arrival announcement with mouth full. Later I asked Terry if there was anything under the work bench, her favorite dining area. His disgusted look told me I had heard her correctly. He scooped up this back end and put it in the trash can. Considering the fact that she wears a sparkly belled collar, we both think it’s impressive that she can capture and kill a squirrel. Instead of the dun-nut, dun-nut of the death by shark theme song, the last sound the squirrels, birds and one rabbit has heard is jingle-jingle.

I review the early morning need/want/wish to do list as I light a cigarette. I am tired and have no real motivation to do what needs to be accomplished. The false thought that I’m a one woman show yaps at my ankles. My desires at the present moment are far from the need to do tasks.

I desire to slowly process Terry & my swamp paddle, travels and conversations. I desire to have long sits in contemplative prayer where my thoughts are gently pushed away and I can by refocusing again and again tell God I love Him, I am here. I know He is waiting on me. I desire to write without interruption and guilt. I desire to see the small sparks of an idea and thought line up on a blank page in ways that surprise me because I really have no idea all this is in here. I am quite small and truly have nothing. I desire to drive to Illinois to see my grandma and an old friend. I desire the wheel in my hand as I go through the hills of Tennessee, the farmlands of Kentucky and finally end up in the familiar drive way and my grandma’s arms.

The tasks are ever present, large and monotonous. There are loads of laundry to be folded, loads of laundry to be washed, loads of laundry to be put away. There is a sink full of dirty dishes that needs to be washed. I smelled last night’s dinner when I awoke and fumbled with the coffee pot. The floors are covered with dust, sticky spills and crumbs. An attentive sweep and mop are in order before this debris ends up on the couch and in our beds. The bushes need trimmed. The grass needs mowed. The entire yard needs raked. I see it each time I pull into the drive and look out the kitchen windows. I would enjoy not getting another notice from the city because the neighbors don’t like the crazy yard and pushed number 3 on their speed dial. We need groceries to feed us through the next week.

And I am tired. The weight of this catalog of tasks this morning feels so heavy. As the coffee pot gives its final sigh, I stretch my sore back and hear my hip pop and creak when I move toward the door. Sarah looks up at me with a leg hanging from her mouth and meows. “No thank you,” I reply to this cat invitation of “Wanna bite?” I will pray and write while the washer washes then the dryer dries. This will give me about 40 minutes. When the buzzer sounds, I will then shake and fold neatly my family’s clothes. I will then wash my body, wake up my family and guide all out the door before leaving to go to work. Something will not get completed, but I am still a good wife. I am still a good mom. All in its place and in His time is the mantra for the day.

The Big Idea

To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage, because we don't want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt.
- Madonna

My Prayer…

Dear Lord grant me the grace of wonder. Surprise me, amaze me, awe me in every crevice of Your universe. Delight me to see how Your Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not His, to the Father through the features of men's faces. Each day enrapture me with Your marvelous things without number. I do not ask to see the reason for it all; I ask only to share the wonder of it all.